To Think of You
by Bachy A
Summary: Harry loves Hermione - but can his love endure, especially when his fear continues to eat away at him?
1. I'll Give Up Everything Just to Find You

To Think Of You

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A/N: The song I used for this story is "Taking Over Me" by Evanescence. They are a really good band – I suggest you check them out. Anyway, enough of my preaching – onward! ^_^

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* * * * * *

_You don't remember me, but I remember you;_

_I lie awake and try so hard not to think of you;_

_But who can decide what they dream?_

_And dream I do......_

* * * * * *

He had never, ever before felt like this. 

Harry Potter could have sworn that he had felt every possible emotion that life had in its vast store – but now, he was challenged with something new, something so radically different from that which he had always known...

It scared him in a way. He didn't like to be caught unawares, and now, for all his tries, he couldn't halt the advancing emotion that was washing through him.

He was in love.

That was enough to send any young man spinning into oblivion. But no, this was no ordinary love – there was much more to this sordid little situation.

The girl he happened to love was his one of his very best friends.

Of course, he hadn't remembered loving Hermione before this year. Sure, she had always been there for him – they had always been close, able to tell each other anything, able to read each other's thoughts in one fleeting glance.

But it had never meant love to Harry. Now, everything had changed...

Love, as they say, is supposed to be the greatest feeling that can graze the souls of humans. It is supposed to send its bearer into the greatest euphoria, something from which one cannot escape.

To Harry, it didn't feel like that at all – it felt much, much different. Actually, in all honesty, it felt as though he had swallowed two containers of Skele-Grow with a splash of Pollyjuice potion thrown in just for fun.

The conditions around him didn't help at all. The majority of those around him continued to move forward in their happy little lives, oblivious to what he was going through.

Not that he blamed them. They didn't need to get mixed up in his problems. He knew that he had to deal with those, but it wasn't any easier knowing that he couldn't share his feeling legitimately with any one else.

Even Ron. That especially hurt. He and Ron had always been inseparable in everything that passed through their lives. And he knew, vehemently, that he wanted nothing more than to tell his friend what was going on and to hear his advice.

Only one thing stopped him – the fact that the woman he loved was Hermione. He didn't know (couldn't _possibly_ know) how Ron would react to the fact that his best friend was in love with his other best friend.

He knew that he shouldn't have such doubts about Ron. But, as was always true, love makes people do strange things.

And every time he saw her, the feelings in the pit of his stomach grew to a nearly insurmountable frenzy. She was there, always there: talking, laughing, and joking around with those that didn't seem to have a care in the world. 

And it tore him apart, every time, to see her, to look at the simple perfection the she was.

He must have done a good job at masking his feelings, because no one seemed to take notice of the agony he was going through. He didn't dare want to think about the possibility that no one _cared_ – that was too horrible a thought to imagine, one that would surely intensify the anguish already running through him.

And so, even though he wanted to spend every moment in his four-poster bed (with the curtains drawn), he kept up his façade. He continued to act as though nothing was wrong, although it ripped at him to do so.

And yet, every waking moment, his mind was fixed on the beautiful aura that was Hermione.

And every night, she filled his dreams, tormenting his soul with the mere essence of her.

~{:*:}~

* * * * * *

_I believe in you;_

_I'll give up everything just to find you;_

_I have to be with you to live, to breath;_

_You're taking over me......_

* * * * * *

If life were such a perfect little journey, he would have told her – he would have jumped to the tallest point he could find, whereupon he would profess his undying love for her, calling out to the heavens in a cry of such unrestrained happiness that the world would shake beneath him.

But life wasn't perfect. Not by a long shot.

He couldn't do it – no matter how he wanted it, he couldn't do it.

He had thought that it could be dealt with. He had believed it to be under control. He had "understood" that he could keep his feelings in check, away from everyone else.

How wrong he was.

Before, he had truly believed that either he was very adept at hiding his feelings...or that no one really cared.

Now, not dependant on either of those possibilities, things had changed. Everyone had now seemed to notice that something was amiss with Harry.

He didn't understand how. He honestly believed that he was very skilled at hiding his feelings, no matter how much they ate away at him.

He was first aware of it during _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ one day. He had been sitting there, not really listening to the lecture being given, bordering on the edge of a total stupor.

It had been Ron who had nudged him back into reality.

"What's wrong mate?" he asked.

Harry had blanched at that, surprised at the fact that someone had bothered to notice. But now...

"Uh, nothing's wrong, nothing at all," he said a little too quickly.

He wished beyond all reckoning that he didn't have to hold this secret any more. It ripped him apart – how could he possibly tell _anyone_ what was really the matter? There was no way he could do it, not even for his best friend.

Ron gave Harry a skeptical look, but shrugged and left it alone.

That tore at Harry even more. Part of him desperately wanted the truth to be set free; however, the other part of him wanted it to stay buried, concealed beneath a mountain of lies. He was scared of either decision – both seemed to lead to insurmountable anguish.

He was terrified that the truth would destroy his friendships – every single one of them. Not only those with everyone he knew (including Ron), but that which he treasured dearly: his friendship with Hermione.

He didn't know what was better – to hold onto that friendship he cherished and keep his true feelings underneath the surface...or to profess his true feelings and risk destroying everything dear to him.

This was a trying time for Harry – sure, he had had crushes on girls before, but...

...this was different. This was love. And love...love was incomparable to anything else. The confusion caused by it all threatened every second to drive him from the little sanity he was still able to grasp.

For the moment, he decided that he would just be happy with being in her presence. That was all he could do – and yet, even with such a simple choice in front of him, it hurt to know that he was alone with his feelings, and that no matter how he wanted, he couldn't share it with anyone else.

They say that there is a line within each person, a boundary that cannot simply be crossed. This boundary, this wall that each human builds within himself or herself presents such resistance to an effort to remove it...it won't allow that person to do that which they may desperately wish to do.

It was so with Harry. He wanted...he wanted everything in the world to be right. 

And yet, even now, the Boy Who Lived couldn't do it. He laughed coldly in his mind at the thought of that name – he wished that those who thought him a hero could see him now. Reduced into a sniveling simpleton by the emotions plaguing his soul.

Before he knew it, _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ was over – students were shuffling out of the classroom, their pleasant murmurs of conversation ringing slightly through the castle air.

"You coming Harry?"

He looked up to see Ron standing in front of him, waiting patiently. Harry stood up, quickly gathering his things before following Ron from the classroom. It was then that he made a decision.

He would keep up the façade – he would continue to pretend as though nothing were wrong. For all the pain he felt coursing through him, he _would not_ subject those around him to it. They deserved much better than that.

He would do it, pretend, just to keep his friends from sharing in his agony.

And yet, it offered him no comfort. He knew that there would be none forthcoming. All there was to do was pack away his feelings and deal with it as best he could.

It didn't make life easier, but he knew that sometimes, life wasn't meant to be easy. Life didn't ask what he wanted, and now, in the face of all, he wasn't sure that it ever would.

~{:*:}~

* * * * * *

_Have you forgotten all I know, and all we had?_

_You saw me mourning my love for you and touched my hand;_

_I knew you loved me then..._

* * * * * *

The bells outside rang with fierce aggression, denoting that which everyone had been anticipating: the school week was officially over.

With all of the work that had been piled upon the students, they were grateful for a break in the tediousness.

Even Harry was grateful...although, it was for a much different reason. With no school, Harry had the opportunity to avoid Hermione completely, something he desired greatly to do.

No..._desired_ was the wrong word...He didn't ever want to be out of her presence...

He _had_ to be away from her, because every moment he spent near her drove him closer to insanity.

Dinner that evening had been awful, as usual, to sit through. Ron and Hermione had automatically sat next to him, happily chatting away about their day. So oblivious, so unaware of what their friend was going through...

Of all the troubles that came with being in love, he hated this the most – the fact that he had his two best friends next to him...and that he couldn't even begin to feel comfortable around them.

Throughout dinner, he had marginally followed his vow to keep his cool, untroubled exterior. He had laughed at Ron's jokes, had responded politely to Hermione's inquiries of how his day had gone. But, through all that...

...Harry's two best friends knew there was something wrong. Harry was like a part of them; everything that passed through him passed through them as well.

They didn't push the issue – they gave Harry his space. It wasn't that they didn't care – that wasn't it _at all_. It was just that they knew Harry would not likely admit to anything being wrong.

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks, understanding of this knowledge passing through them both. Ron cleared his throat and turned to Harry, an idea of how to cheer him up appearing.

"Hey mate, this weekend's a Hogsmeade weekend. Want to go? Get your mind off things?"

Harry glanced up at Ron, staring back at him. Harry wanted to shout – he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs that _nothing _was wrong. But he knew that would be a lie, one that might push things way further than needed.

He looked over at Hermione, watched the concern register in her slender face.

He couldn't turn them down – whether it was because he wanted to be in their presence, or whether he didn't want to give them another glimpse that something was amiss...he didn't know. But he did know that he couldn't refuse.

He nodded, smiling slightly.

"Sure," he said quickly before turning back to his dinner.

Ron and Hermione exchanged another look, resignation in their faces. They couldn't discern what was wrong with Harry, but they hoped that this weekend would prove to brighten him up again.

~{:*:}~

It was freezing outside, simply to say. Cloaks and scarves did their best to keep out the cold, but it wasn't always easy.

The three friends walked down the main road, glancing at things, laughing at jokes that they passed between themselves.

Harry had cheered up considerably, much to the relief of Ron and Hermione.

The renewed happiness that filtered through Harry, however, was not genuine. There was no real happiness in him – it was merely the absence of anguish that seemed to lift him up.

Yes, the absence of anguish. Harry had decided that he could no longer continue with feeling sorry for himself. It just wasn't what he wanted any more.

He would continue to be Hermione's best friend. That, at least, he could do.

And through it all, he felt some kind of inner peace at the fact that she was unattached – she wasn't in a relationship with anyone else.

In some small way, she was still his.

~{:*:}~

They had stopped at the Three Broomsticks – mugs of butterbeer were in order. They sat, smiling at each other, relishing in the warm feeling that the butterbeer sent through them.

Harry felt happy here, now, with the knowledge that Hermione was his best friend. It released some pain from him to stop his incessant concentration on her.

Life had, apparently, returned to some normalcy.

A hard clap on his back, one that caused his wand to fall from his sleeve interrupted his quiet sitting.

He turned around, ready to let fly at the person who had disturbed him, until he saw that it was Hagrid.

"All right there, 'Arry?"

A large smile came to Harry's face as he nodded. Hagrid smiled back and looked over at Ron and Hermione.

"Ron. Hermione. Pleasure 'o course," he said with a slightly exaggerated bow, one that made them chuckle slightly.

Hagrid turned and headed towards the counter. Harry smiled again, shaking his head, and bent down to reach his wand.

He had to grope a bit, as it lay fairly far under the table. He could hear Ron and Hermione talking, their voices faintly audible through the thick wood of the table.

Finally, he reached his wand – he grasped at it, pulling it closer to him, until is snagged on something.

Frowning, he brought his head beneath the table and saw that his wand had caught on a piece of carpet. But that wasn't all he saw...

...He saw something else, something that literally knocked the air from his lungs...

..._Ron's hand was holding Hermione's hand_...

He felt disbelief shake through the roots of his body. He couldn't possibly believe it; he bent forward more in order to get a closer look.

It wasn't so much the fact that Ron's hand was clasped with Hermione's..._it was the fact that her hand was clasping his back_...

He tried to bring breath back into his body, but failed, choking sounds emanating from his throat.

_No........no......._

This couldn't be happening. No, it just couldn't.....

Just when he had seemed to regain some control in his life, the world had come crashing around him.

He couldn't take it anymore.

He slowly brought himself back from under the table, positive that his pain and bewilderment were showing clearly on his face.

The smiles the Ron and Hermione had quickly disappeared when they turned from each other to look at their friend. 

"Harry, what is it?" they both asked.

He barely heard them – sound seemed unable to register in his head. All he could he was the blood pounding through his eardrums, threatening to deafen him with the sheer weight of it all.

"Harry...?" Hermione asked timidly, fear beginning to show in her eyes.

He _did_ hear that – he looked up at her, then over to Ron, and back to Hermione again. He tried to speak, but succeeded only in opening and closing his mouth, no sound present.

He took a deep breath, tried to calm himself, and failed. How could this have happened......?

Slowly, he turned his gaze downward.

"I have to go," he whispered, barely audible to his friends.

With that, he stood up quickly – with one movement, he swept on his cloak and stalked out the door into the blustery winter weather.

Ron and Hermione were on their feet in a second. They didn't even bother to grab their cloaks as they raced after Harry.

~{:*:}~

The door of the Three Broomsticks burst open as they flew out into the open. They spun around, looking for Harry...but couldn't find him. The swarm of people on the street mixed with the swirling snow impeded any view they might have had.

Ron and Hermione exchanged worried looks, for that was exactly what they were: worried about Harry, worried about why he had suddenly stalked out on them, worried about what was causing him so much pain.

It seemed to hit Hermione the hardest. She stood there, silent, unmoving, letting the coldness sweep around her body and through her soul.

Ron gently grabbed her arm, persuading her to come back into the Three Broomsticks. She responded quickly to his touch, nodding silently as she followed him back inside.

~{:*:}~

He didn't remember much of the trip back to Hogwarts. The entire time, the thoughts running through his head would not let anything else enter.

How could they have done this? How could they have betrayed him like this?!?

Somewhere deep in his mind, he knew that wasn't true: he hadn't been betrayed. He simply felt that way because, for all he was, he felt that he had loved Hermione first, long before any other.

However, at the moment, the chemicals pumping through his brain wouldn't allow him to see that his anger was truly deserved.

And anger it was. The blackest anger that comes only with betrayal, real or imagined.

Ron had held her hand, right there in front of him..._and she had held his back_...

That had hurt the most. He supposed that he could have lived with Ron's intentions and actions...but the fact that Hermione was a willing part of it all...it shook him with sadness and rage, all at once.

He closed his eyes, trying to block the tears that formed, but to no avail – they fell anyway, making soft marks on the white snow.

Every time he shut his eyes, he could see them, standing, happy, holding each other, right there, as if to mock him.

Eventually, he had reached Hogwarts. He hustled up to the Gryffindor Common Room – by that time, the anger had transformed into sadness, adding to the pool of anguish that already resided in his spirit. 

He could only think of one thing to do – he had to write to her, tell her now how he truly felt, and then go away for a while. That was all he could muster as a plan – nothing else seemed plausible in his pain-riddle mind.

He ran into the boys' dormitory, locking the door behind him. He sat down at one of the desks, drew out a fresh piece of parchment, and began to write.

_Dear Hermione,_

_By the time you read this, I will be gone. I'm not gone for good; only a little while. I suppose you're wondering what's going on, and I am in no position now not to tell you, so here goes._

_I'm in love with you, Hermione. There, I said it – those may be the most difficult words that I've ever had to say. But now I've said them. And be assured that it's the truth. I love you, so much that my heart breaks every time I look at you._

* * *

He stopped. Now that the words were finally coming out of him, he could no longer contain the emotion that had for so long been bottled inside of him. His tears hit the parchment with tiny splashes, slightly smudging the wet ink. He snuffled, quickly wiped his eyes, and pushed forward, trying his best to go on.

* * *

_You may be wondering why I am telling you this now. Understand that I never wanted to do it like this. I had hopes and dreams that someday, I would have the guts to tell you in person, just like in a fairy tale._

_But somehow, this was different. I couldn't tell you – you're my best friend, Hermione. I don't think you'll ever truly understand the fear I felt when confronted with the possibility that my love for you would annihilate our friendship._

_And that is something that I didn't want – something I could not possibly live with._

_I had hopes that someday, if I ever had the nerve to tell you, you might have the same feelings for me. It was the only thing that pushed me through the endless days, endless days of having to live with the torment of being in love with my best friend._

_But then, it all changed. When we were in Hogsmeade today, I saw the two of you holding hands. I had never even fathomed that you and Ron cared for each other like that._

_Seeing that nearly stopped my heart. It's a wonder that I didn't die right then and there._

_I guess now that I can't blame either of you. Forces like love cannot be halted, even though I wish I had the power to do so..._

_Know this, that even now, I am mortified. Of what? Of the fact that this letter will most likely ruin our friendship. And my friendship with Ron._

_I never wanted this to happen. Any of this._

_I'm sorry Hermione. Sorry that you had to be put through this; sorry that these feelings descended on me with no warning; sorry that this changes everything we once had..._

_Please tell Ron I'm sorry as well. I don't think he'll take this very well – I hate the fact that I'm the cause of this, but now, I guess there's no turning back._

_At the end of it all, I guess I want you to know that no matter what – wherever we are and whatever we are doing – I will always value what you have given me. It was often much more than I deserved. But you gave it to me anyway. And I will always be grateful._

_Harry_

* * *

He quickly folded up the parchment, scribbled a hasty _Hermione_ on the top, and went to his trunk. He carefully brought out his _Firebolt_ broomstick, placing it gently on his bed.

Quickly, he packed everything he had into the trunk. With ease, he placed a charm on it that made it shrink to the size of a button – he carefully placed this tiny trunk in his cloak pocket. With nothing left to do, he opened a window and mounted his broom.

He looked back at the dormitory, tears still falling from his emerald eyes. He hated the fact that he was leaving, that powers much greater than he had forced him to take such an action.

With one last silent _goodbye_, he kicked off; his broom flew through the swirling snow, passing him away from that which he treasured most.

* * * * * *

_I believe in you;_

_I'll give up everything just to find you;_

_I have to be with you to live, to breath;_

_You're taking over me......_

* * * * * *

She didn't know what to do. She was lost, wondering in a land that seemed alien to her. No, the physical terrain was something she was quite accustomed to...it was that which was not physical that afflicted her.

Hermione, much like a certain dark-haired boy that had come before her, did not really remember returning to Hogwarts – Ron had been there beside her the entire time, steering her towards the castle gates.

She had seen it...that look that had crossed Harry's face just before he had stormed out on them...before he had left them to face something they had never faced before...

Ron had seen it too – it hadn't sent him into a pure panic like it had Hermione, but it had unhinged him. He had never, _never_ seen Harry with a look like that upon his face – a look of pure and utter anguish ripping through his heart.

It had seemed to last an eternity, but finally, they reached the Gryffindor Common Room...to find it empty. Nothing there, only...

...an open window, curtains flapping softly, swirling white snow fluttering through the opening.

Hermione ran to the four-poster bed that belonged to Harry and flung the curtains open...to find it empty. His trunk was even gone; there was no sign of him left.

She suddenly started to cry, the weight of Harry's seemingly forgotten presence landing on her shoulders. Her tears landed softly, piddling in her robes.

Ron stood at the edge of the doorway, his eyes staring into space, the reality of the situation slamming into him. Harry was gone, and there was nothing that he could do (or could have done, so he thought) to stop him.

He noticed a folded piece of parchment on the desk. On top was a single word, seeming to have been hastily scribbled:

Hermione 

He walked over to it, slowly picked it up.

"Hermione," he whispered.

She didn't hear him. She was still there; kneeling on the floor, horrific sobs wracking her slender frame.

Ron walked over to her, slowly, and crouched down beside her.

"Hermione," he said again, this time holding the letter in front of her. She took a moment, then finally noticed the parchment, noticed Harry's handwriting that had scripted her name.

Ron stood, resolving to leave – whatever was in the letter was meant for Hermione, and Hermione alone. It hurt to think that Harry hadn't seemed to be concerned with his other best friend, but for the moment, he knew that he had to respect that which was given to Hermione.

She didn't even notice him leave...All that concerned her at the moment was the letter that she held in front of her.

And, ever so slowly, she concerned herself with the simple task of opening it. It took a moment – not to mention the greatest amount of willpower she had ever had to muster – but finally, she found it in herself to do it.

And then she read.

~{:*:}~

Harry sat at the table, staring out into the morning sunrise. Out here, winter didn't seem to affect anything.

Sirius had given him the freedom to use this place whenever he needed. And now, he needed it, more than ever.

As he watched the crimson rose of the sun ascend into the morning sky, he reflected on what he had done, and what it would mean.

He wondered if she had already read the letter...He wondered if she was reading it right now...He didn't know...

Life had been ripped apart for him – in not just one aspect but many. He knew that those wounds would take some time to heal.

And for the moment, there was nothing left for him to do except ponder...

...Ponder what he loved, what he knew he shouldn't love, and what life now held in store for him...

...That pain that ran through him doubled, and tripled, every hour in a never-ending cycle.

Staring out at the sunrise, he wondered how his supposed courage would help him now, and what he would do were he ever given that which he most greatly desired...

...She was still there, in his dreams...

...But no longer his...

...It was becoming more than he could bear. Life had once held so many possibilities, so many choices...

...And now, he was terrified at it all...

...She dominated his thoughts, all day, and all night.

...Life had become something much different than what his dreams had once been...

* * * * * *

_I look in the mirror and see your face;_

_If I look deep enough..._

_...So many things inside that are just like you are taking over_

* * * * * *

The End

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A/N: Okay, I know this fic stinks real bad, but let me explain my reasoning. This fic is sort of a representation of my own personal experiences with a certain girl I liked...

...This sort of thing happened to me, and when it did, I came home and wrote this in a rush. I left it like this because, just as Harry doesn't know how this issue will resolve, neither do I.

I am really debating whether or not to post this – I guess I will, but I don't blame you if you dislike it.

Just so it's known, I am writing a full-fledged, 10+ chapter HP fic, one that is actually good – to be honest, I wrote this to try and cure some writer's block and get out some emotions at the same time.

So in the end, thanks for putting up with this. Review if ya like, tell me what's on your mind.

**Bachy A**

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	2. Author's Note

Hey everyone – well, I've been asked to continue this, and I must admit, the idea is appealing because I ended it in such a bad spot.

The truth is, I have no clue where to go with this. So I think my best bet is to continue to follow current events, if ya get what I mean...As my story continues to unfold, so shall this.

Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far – I am still pretty much disgusted with how I wrote this, but your kind words help a lot. Thanks!!

~Bachy A~


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